For the first time in months I took my fiddle, Lily, out to practice. I knew it wasn't going to be for more than 15 minutes, but I was going to practice. I won't go into why I haven't been able to practice, lets just say Life can be a Bitch, but tonight I was going to re-embrace practicing and making music.
As soon as I lifted the case to my lap my daughter smiled a huge grin an said "Play Violin!" She went on saying, "Help! Help bow! Play Violin!" For those who don't know, DB is 21 months old. Over the past 4 months she's sat on my lap and "helped" me bow a few times, but tonight it really was something fantastical.
I played "A Bunch of Keys" and she was furious with me for not sitting down so she could help me. I started the Eklundapolska, and she began crying. "Me You!Me You! Help Violin!" I sat down at the end of the piece and she clambered into my lap.
She took my bow in her and and started to play on the strings while I put my fingers down for a D major scale. I said,"Flat hair, honey. Remember to keep the hair on the bow flat" and she corrected her bowing. I moved her hand from a more fiddler bow hand (choking up on the stick) to the grip and she grasped it easily. We played for 15 minutes easy, and the only reason we stopped was because I realized the time was way past her normal bedtime. She was not happy with me. I promised her we'd practice again tomorrow.
Music has always been my lifeblood. Becoming a mother changed that, as my priorities changed. DB is entranced by music. Mind you, she's heard it all her life, even before she was born. She hears Celtic music and says "Mama Music", even if I'm not the one playing. I have to wonder if music will be as intrinsic to her life as it is to mine. What I know, after tonight's experiment, is that I'll be able to incorporate practicing into my life again, and that I'll have help. This is truly something fantastical!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way
Christmas is an odd time of the year if you're not a Christian. Let me say right here, right now, that I am not knocking Christmas. I just want to be crystal clear about that. I think the idea of Joy and Peace and Love are wonderful. Giving unto others, being kind to your neighbors and strangers, and everything else that the Christmas Spirit can embody. No, what I'm talking about is seeing the majority of your world celebrate a holiday that you're not truly a part of. There's a disconnect that not a lot of people talk about, though I know I can't be the only one to feel this way.
I didn't grow up celebrating Christmas. Being Jewish, this makes a lot of sense. The allure of Christmas always grabbed at me. My friends in elementary school would talk about decorating trees, making cookies, and visiting with Santa. I didn't get Santa. He was fake, everyone had to know that. I knew for a fact he was fake, because my grandfather, who did not live in the North Pole and who knew diddlysquat about reindeer, dressed up as Santa for some events at Briarcliffe College where my grandmother worked and taught. Lets forget about Santa. Lets talk about the Elves. I can get behind the Elves. Look at history with tales of Brownies, Cobbs, Faery Forts, Jenny Greenteeth, Faeries, Pixies, Dwarves, Dryads and more. How many faery tales are there? How many stories about Elves and Pixies and any of the countless Fey? Seriously, my grandfather wasn't dressing up as Oberon, ya know? My friends believed in the jolly fat man, but try to have one serious conversation about the Fey and get you get labeled a nerd for life. Ah, well, you pick your battles, right? So, back to Christmas.
I never understood what Jesus had to do with Santa, presents, or the holiday decorations that spewed across the neighborhood after Thanksgiving. I also had no clue what Jesus had to do with trees, cookies and reindeer. My friends couldn't explain it, and my family didn't talk about it. The combination of Sacred and Secular always confused me. Again, I am not knocking Christmas, Jesus or Santa.
What I loved about Christmas, being an outsider, were the decorations and the music. I loved the carols. I loved the lights in their garish cacophony. Most of all, I loved the trees. Christmas trees were amazing. Real trees, in your home, decorated with lights, sparkles and so many ornaments. The trees got me every year. I remember in elementary school when I asked my mom if we could have a tree. The answer was a resounding No. Jews didn't have trees. Trees were for Christmas. There was no other discussion. It was fact, laid out, end of story. I have to say, I felt conned, but I let it go. Several years later my family was invited to Christmas dinner with friend's of my parents. Their family emigrated from Scandinavia, and celebrated the holiday with more European traditions. The food was different than the more American/traditional Christmas dinners my friends told me about, and there were amazing decorations. Everything was carved out of wood, and there were candles everywhere. Their tree, however, stopped me cold.
The tree was huge, and by huge I mean it was over 7 feet tall. It was decked out with lights, ornaments, and strings of cranberries. There was a glass finial on the top of the tree, and on almost every branch tip there was a small candle. The ornaments and lights were mostly white, silver, or cream. The string of cranberries popped against the light colours. It was simply breathtaking. After dinner our host turned the lights off in the room, and then he and his wife began to light the candles on the tree. They may have sung Silent Night while lighting the candles, but I don't recall that as clearly. Once they were done, the candles were the only light in the room, and it was magical. It didn't matter that my family didn't celebrate Christmas, for that moment, in the warm glow of the candles, everyone in that room was connected. It was breathtaking. Looking back, I don't think I've ever felt that kind of connection again.
Over the years holidays, not just Christmas, have become more commercial. In college, away from my parents' prying eyes, I celebrated Christmas with friends and had my own "Chanukah bush". After college, when I had a place of my own I would put up lights (indoor and out) and sometimes have a small tree. By then I knew I didn't have a Christmas tree, but a Yule tree. Pagan roots, pagan holiday, and I mixed it with the cultural trappings of the Jewish holiday. It felt comfortable and right to me, but it wasn't Christmas. It certainly wasn't that feeling of belonging that I'd felt that Christmas so long ago.
Throughout college and beyond I dated and married non-Jewish men. I celebrated Christmas with their families, and incorporated their festivities with mine. I was now celebrating Chanukah, Yule and Christmas. Finally, I was celebrating Christmas in a cultural way that made me feel like I was part of it. I'd made the cut! I was Celebrating Christmas.
There was some grand Christmases, and some crappy ones. There were years with gifts, years without gifts. There were even years without trees, but I still celebrated Christmas with loved ones. It was nice. I developed my own Christmas traditions. Like most Jews, I enjoyed Chinese food for Christmas dinner, and I would go to the movies. There were compromises along the way. More traditional Christmas dinners with lovers and friends, so the Chinese food & movie would move to Christmas eve. It all worked somehow. 2010, however, was different.
I didn't have a significant other to celebrate Chanukah or Yule with. The holidays seemed empty, especially Christmas. I read blogs, facebook posts and tweets from my friends talking about the joy of the season, and how they were spending the holidays with their loved ones, and I was back in elementary school again. Don't get me wrong, friends invited me to celebrate with them, but it didn't feel right. I lit the Channukah candles with my daughter every night, and it was sweet. It was calm, there wasn't a big fuss, and the night moved on. I celebrated Yule with my daughter, and it was the same thing. It was sweet, calm, and not a big fuss. Both holidays felt comfortable and inviting. Christmas, however, was uncomfortable.
I made a baked ziti for Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas day we had Chinese food for lunch and we watched movies. Meanwhile my friends online were posting their Christmas stories, tweeting their loot, and I felt like a voyeur. I was out of the loop again for Christmas. Christmas 2010 was lonely. It was an uncomfortable quiet. It was a day where I felt I didn't belong. Christmas wasn't special for me, it was just a day.
I propose this.
I propose that Christmas isn't about gifts, food and insane holiday decorations. It isn't about carols or drunk uncles. Christmas is about surrounding yourself with people you care about, and enjoying their company. It doesn't matter if you celebrate Christmas as a sacred or secular holiday, it's the people who matter. I think I want to celebrate Christmas in 2011. I can't tell you where I'll be, if there will be a tree, or carols playing, but I can tell you that it will be more than just a day for me. I don't want to be disconnected. I want to be part of the Peace, Joy and Love that can embody the holiday season. Maybe, by being a part of it all, I can reach out to others who are on the outside and we can all celebrate together. Wouldn't that be spectacular?
I didn't grow up celebrating Christmas. Being Jewish, this makes a lot of sense. The allure of Christmas always grabbed at me. My friends in elementary school would talk about decorating trees, making cookies, and visiting with Santa. I didn't get Santa. He was fake, everyone had to know that. I knew for a fact he was fake, because my grandfather, who did not live in the North Pole and who knew diddlysquat about reindeer, dressed up as Santa for some events at Briarcliffe College where my grandmother worked and taught. Lets forget about Santa. Lets talk about the Elves. I can get behind the Elves. Look at history with tales of Brownies, Cobbs, Faery Forts, Jenny Greenteeth, Faeries, Pixies, Dwarves, Dryads and more. How many faery tales are there? How many stories about Elves and Pixies and any of the countless Fey? Seriously, my grandfather wasn't dressing up as Oberon, ya know? My friends believed in the jolly fat man, but try to have one serious conversation about the Fey and get you get labeled a nerd for life. Ah, well, you pick your battles, right? So, back to Christmas.
I never understood what Jesus had to do with Santa, presents, or the holiday decorations that spewed across the neighborhood after Thanksgiving. I also had no clue what Jesus had to do with trees, cookies and reindeer. My friends couldn't explain it, and my family didn't talk about it. The combination of Sacred and Secular always confused me. Again, I am not knocking Christmas, Jesus or Santa.
What I loved about Christmas, being an outsider, were the decorations and the music. I loved the carols. I loved the lights in their garish cacophony. Most of all, I loved the trees. Christmas trees were amazing. Real trees, in your home, decorated with lights, sparkles and so many ornaments. The trees got me every year. I remember in elementary school when I asked my mom if we could have a tree. The answer was a resounding No. Jews didn't have trees. Trees were for Christmas. There was no other discussion. It was fact, laid out, end of story. I have to say, I felt conned, but I let it go. Several years later my family was invited to Christmas dinner with friend's of my parents. Their family emigrated from Scandinavia, and celebrated the holiday with more European traditions. The food was different than the more American/traditional Christmas dinners my friends told me about, and there were amazing decorations. Everything was carved out of wood, and there were candles everywhere. Their tree, however, stopped me cold.
The tree was huge, and by huge I mean it was over 7 feet tall. It was decked out with lights, ornaments, and strings of cranberries. There was a glass finial on the top of the tree, and on almost every branch tip there was a small candle. The ornaments and lights were mostly white, silver, or cream. The string of cranberries popped against the light colours. It was simply breathtaking. After dinner our host turned the lights off in the room, and then he and his wife began to light the candles on the tree. They may have sung Silent Night while lighting the candles, but I don't recall that as clearly. Once they were done, the candles were the only light in the room, and it was magical. It didn't matter that my family didn't celebrate Christmas, for that moment, in the warm glow of the candles, everyone in that room was connected. It was breathtaking. Looking back, I don't think I've ever felt that kind of connection again.
Over the years holidays, not just Christmas, have become more commercial. In college, away from my parents' prying eyes, I celebrated Christmas with friends and had my own "Chanukah bush". After college, when I had a place of my own I would put up lights (indoor and out) and sometimes have a small tree. By then I knew I didn't have a Christmas tree, but a Yule tree. Pagan roots, pagan holiday, and I mixed it with the cultural trappings of the Jewish holiday. It felt comfortable and right to me, but it wasn't Christmas. It certainly wasn't that feeling of belonging that I'd felt that Christmas so long ago.
Throughout college and beyond I dated and married non-Jewish men. I celebrated Christmas with their families, and incorporated their festivities with mine. I was now celebrating Chanukah, Yule and Christmas. Finally, I was celebrating Christmas in a cultural way that made me feel like I was part of it. I'd made the cut! I was Celebrating Christmas.
There was some grand Christmases, and some crappy ones. There were years with gifts, years without gifts. There were even years without trees, but I still celebrated Christmas with loved ones. It was nice. I developed my own Christmas traditions. Like most Jews, I enjoyed Chinese food for Christmas dinner, and I would go to the movies. There were compromises along the way. More traditional Christmas dinners with lovers and friends, so the Chinese food & movie would move to Christmas eve. It all worked somehow. 2010, however, was different.
I didn't have a significant other to celebrate Chanukah or Yule with. The holidays seemed empty, especially Christmas. I read blogs, facebook posts and tweets from my friends talking about the joy of the season, and how they were spending the holidays with their loved ones, and I was back in elementary school again. Don't get me wrong, friends invited me to celebrate with them, but it didn't feel right. I lit the Channukah candles with my daughter every night, and it was sweet. It was calm, there wasn't a big fuss, and the night moved on. I celebrated Yule with my daughter, and it was the same thing. It was sweet, calm, and not a big fuss. Both holidays felt comfortable and inviting. Christmas, however, was uncomfortable.
I made a baked ziti for Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas day we had Chinese food for lunch and we watched movies. Meanwhile my friends online were posting their Christmas stories, tweeting their loot, and I felt like a voyeur. I was out of the loop again for Christmas. Christmas 2010 was lonely. It was an uncomfortable quiet. It was a day where I felt I didn't belong. Christmas wasn't special for me, it was just a day.
I propose this.
I propose that Christmas isn't about gifts, food and insane holiday decorations. It isn't about carols or drunk uncles. Christmas is about surrounding yourself with people you care about, and enjoying their company. It doesn't matter if you celebrate Christmas as a sacred or secular holiday, it's the people who matter. I think I want to celebrate Christmas in 2011. I can't tell you where I'll be, if there will be a tree, or carols playing, but I can tell you that it will be more than just a day for me. I don't want to be disconnected. I want to be part of the Peace, Joy and Love that can embody the holiday season. Maybe, by being a part of it all, I can reach out to others who are on the outside and we can all celebrate together. Wouldn't that be spectacular?
What's it really about
This blog doesn't really have a focus. I have a personal blog on LiveJournal as well as a NeidFyre blog, an unused Myspace account, my website NeidFyre.com, and a facebook account. I twitter constantly, and am fond of FourSquare. Facebook really isn't the place for blogging. My LiveJournal blog is private. Myspace is not for me. I don't really think blogging in 140 characters or less counts as blogging, and FourSquare is all about Location Location Location. That leaves me here, at Fiddlemama.
Fiddlemama seems to be my catch-all place. Originally this was where I was going to post my letters and notes to my daughter. I write my daughter a letter or note every day, you see. It's more for me than it is for her, but it's something I really wanted to do. It didn't feel right doing it online, so I have a paper journal for that. That leaves me with the dilemma again of this blog not having a focus.
I've posted about my struggles with ADD here. I've posted about teaching here. I've posted about gigs here. I've posted my poetry here. It still doesn't feel like home, though. I feel like a guest in my own space, and that's just bloody uncomfortable.
Perhaps the blog doesn't need a focus, and I need to accept it for what it is. I'm not pithy or wise. I am not the most eloquent writer, and my grammar often sucks eggs. Thank the Gods there's a spell check here, because spelling is not my strongest suit. This blog isn't here to impress people, it's here for me. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to impress people. I'd like to entertain people. I'd like it if this blog started getting hit upon hit, and people did think I was pithy and wise. Of course, none of that will happen if I ignore this space or if I only write once or twice a month. It's hard to talk the talk if I'm not willing to actually do the necessary work.
What do I mean, "do the necessary work"? It means writing. It means making music. It means actually living in the world instead of wandering with insecure purpose. I'm so tired of feeling insecure with my dreams and desires. Who does it serve to live like that? Not my daughter, and certainly not me.
I don't want broken promises, or empty solutions. I'd like some more substance with my subsistence.
Fiddlemama seems to be my catch-all place. Originally this was where I was going to post my letters and notes to my daughter. I write my daughter a letter or note every day, you see. It's more for me than it is for her, but it's something I really wanted to do. It didn't feel right doing it online, so I have a paper journal for that. That leaves me with the dilemma again of this blog not having a focus.
I've posted about my struggles with ADD here. I've posted about teaching here. I've posted about gigs here. I've posted my poetry here. It still doesn't feel like home, though. I feel like a guest in my own space, and that's just bloody uncomfortable.
Perhaps the blog doesn't need a focus, and I need to accept it for what it is. I'm not pithy or wise. I am not the most eloquent writer, and my grammar often sucks eggs. Thank the Gods there's a spell check here, because spelling is not my strongest suit. This blog isn't here to impress people, it's here for me. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to impress people. I'd like to entertain people. I'd like it if this blog started getting hit upon hit, and people did think I was pithy and wise. Of course, none of that will happen if I ignore this space or if I only write once or twice a month. It's hard to talk the talk if I'm not willing to actually do the necessary work.
What do I mean, "do the necessary work"? It means writing. It means making music. It means actually living in the world instead of wandering with insecure purpose. I'm so tired of feeling insecure with my dreams and desires. Who does it serve to live like that? Not my daughter, and certainly not me.
I don't want broken promises, or empty solutions. I'd like some more substance with my subsistence.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Thoughts on Solstice Eve
Sitting at my desk, the smell of cinnamon raisin bread wafting out to me from my kitchen. I have a few hand-fulls of yogurt covered raisins in a dish as well as a cup of watered down oj next to me. I'm ready to sleep, and at the same time I'm wired. There's a scene at the end of Highlander (the first and best one) where Connor says "I know Everything, I Am Everything". I don't feel like that. Not exactly.
Sticking with the Highlander reference, I always thought the Quickening was more than just a money shot. I always thought it was the Calm in the Storm. Everything is moving around you, fast and furious, and in that insanity of chaos the mind is calm. The mind is Focused. The mind sees clearly, and certain things/thoughts/ideas crystallize. Clearly I am not an Immortal (first off in the movies all the Immortals are men and second it's a movie), but I can relate to where Mr. Widen was going with all of that.
2010 has been a whirlwind. Fuck that, it's been a chaotic flux. For much of 2010 I couldn't see straight. There was too much, too overwhelming, to see much of anything. I have, however, been trying to tame the winds and I think I'm starting to see more clearly. Tonight, especially, being in-between wired and spent, I feel like I can see.
Everyone A lot of folks have blogged about the Eclipse. I think it's awesome. I'd use a different word to describe it, but I am flitting between dragged out tired & wired, so awesome will have to do. I think tonight is a night for clarity. I think tonight is a time to really see what's going on inside and outside of my brain. I would love to say that I'm definitely going to stay awake to see the eclipse, but I know better. My brain may be functioning, but my body is rebelling. Still, I've spoken to the sky and put out some freshly made cinnamon raisin bread and cream. You never know who's moving about on a night like tonight.
How does all of this tie together? Well, for the few of you reading, let me tell you. Clarity. Being able to see past the emotional baggage I keep piled around me like a wall. That's the problem with walls, you know. Sure, you can block things out like over-due bills and the incoming zombie hoards, but if there's no way for things to get in, then there's no way for things to get out. Creativity, love, music, laughter, friendships.... all of that stagnates if it has no room to move. While much of the chaotic flux around my life has been out of my control, I have to wonder how much I added to it by hiding behind my walls; hiding in the darkness. I'm tired of being in darkness. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm looking forward to the return of the Sun. I'm looking forward to celebrating the New Year, and saying goodbye to the old. I'm looking forward to more clarity and less chaos.
Happy Yule
Sticking with the Highlander reference, I always thought the Quickening was more than just a money shot. I always thought it was the Calm in the Storm. Everything is moving around you, fast and furious, and in that insanity of chaos the mind is calm. The mind is Focused. The mind sees clearly, and certain things/thoughts/ideas crystallize. Clearly I am not an Immortal (first off in the movies all the Immortals are men and second it's a movie), but I can relate to where Mr. Widen was going with all of that.
2010 has been a whirlwind. Fuck that, it's been a chaotic flux. For much of 2010 I couldn't see straight. There was too much, too overwhelming, to see much of anything. I have, however, been trying to tame the winds and I think I'm starting to see more clearly. Tonight, especially, being in-between wired and spent, I feel like I can see.
How does all of this tie together? Well, for the few of you reading, let me tell you. Clarity. Being able to see past the emotional baggage I keep piled around me like a wall. That's the problem with walls, you know. Sure, you can block things out like over-due bills and the incoming zombie hoards, but if there's no way for things to get in, then there's no way for things to get out. Creativity, love, music, laughter, friendships.... all of that stagnates if it has no room to move. While much of the chaotic flux around my life has been out of my control, I have to wonder how much I added to it by hiding behind my walls; hiding in the darkness. I'm tired of being in darkness. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm looking forward to the return of the Sun. I'm looking forward to celebrating the New Year, and saying goodbye to the old. I'm looking forward to more clarity and less chaos.
Happy Yule
Thursday, November 11, 2010
R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
When did it become OK to disrespect a teacher?
I teach private music lessons, and over the past 4 years I've noticed the increasing trend in students and their parents treating me (and other private instructors) disrespectfully. No-shows, last minute cancellations, not practicing, not focusing, quitting because it's "too hard". When did children start ruling over their parents? What is going on here?
No-shows and last minute cancellations (that are not related to being ill, family emergencies or car problems) seem to happen every week. Not only do they happen, but the parents don't want to pay for the missed lessons. This is my Livelihood, people! I have expenses to cover. I have bills to pay. This isn't some hobby, it's what I do!! Why is it so hard for parents to understand this? What about having enough respect for me and my time to call me 24-hours ahead and say, "Janie has a conflict tomorrow and we can't make it." or "Billy isn't feeling well and we don't want to get you sick. We want to reschedule his lesson." It isn't rocket science people, it's called COMMUNICATION. Email, Text, Cell Phones - those are the tools so why aren't they being used? Not showing up or canceling last minute teaches that child that it's OK to not keep commitments. It teaches that child that their teacher's time is not important. It teaches that child that it's OK to disrespect others. Again I ask, when did this become OK?
I understand that students get distracted. I understand that students don't always have a lot of time to practice. Life is full these days. School, family, sports, clubs, pets, chores... these things all take up precious time. These things are commitments and need to be prioritized. By the same token, however, these students signed up for lessons. They made a commitment to me and to themselves to practice and learn an instrument. Not being focused and not practicing is another way student disrespect their teachers. Be prepared - be honest - tell me that you didn't practice and I'll work with that. Coming to lessons yawning, slack-jawed and not being present is a waste of everyone's time. When did this become OK?
Last but no least, the excuse "It's too hard" is bogus. No Shit it's hard! You are learning a new language (reading music)! You are using muscles you don't use at other times! You're doing 18 things at once! If it was EASY then EVERYONE would be doing it. With everything we do in our lives, there is a learning curve. Things are hard at the start, and it's my belief that they will get harder before we reach the top of the curve, and everything we've been struggling with suddenly makes sense. It all clicks, and as we move forward we start the next learning curve. "It's too hard" is not the same as a student saying "I'm no longer interested". "It's too hard" is not the same as "I never wanted to play this instrument." "It's too hard" is a cop-out for not wanting to do the work. I'm not suggesting that parents not listen to their children and force them to play an instrument they're not interested in. What I am saying is asking their kids to stick it out for 1 or 2 more lessons, to see if they can get over that hump may be more beneficial than letting them quit because "it's too hard".
How do I know all this? I've been there. I didn't want to practice. I wanted to quit. I would come to lessons unprepared and distracted. My teacher would talk to me about the disrespect I was showing her and myself, and if that's what I wanted to do then she wouldn't teach me anymore. She put her heart and soul into teaching me (and her other students) and it wasn't worth her time to waste that on someone who didn't get that.
I love my students. I teach all ages, all levels, and each one of my "kids" is special. I know music is a hobby to most of my students, and I have no problems with that. I just want them, and their parents, to see that what they're getting is gift. They're getting a teacher who is investing her time in THEM. They're getting a teacher dedicated to making this a good experience. They're getting a teacher who tries to make the lessons fun and informative. I respect my students and their parents. I'd like to be treated the same way.
I teach private music lessons, and over the past 4 years I've noticed the increasing trend in students and their parents treating me (and other private instructors) disrespectfully. No-shows, last minute cancellations, not practicing, not focusing, quitting because it's "too hard". When did children start ruling over their parents? What is going on here?
No-shows and last minute cancellations (that are not related to being ill, family emergencies or car problems) seem to happen every week. Not only do they happen, but the parents don't want to pay for the missed lessons. This is my Livelihood, people! I have expenses to cover. I have bills to pay. This isn't some hobby, it's what I do!! Why is it so hard for parents to understand this? What about having enough respect for me and my time to call me 24-hours ahead and say, "Janie has a conflict tomorrow and we can't make it." or "Billy isn't feeling well and we don't want to get you sick. We want to reschedule his lesson." It isn't rocket science people, it's called COMMUNICATION. Email, Text, Cell Phones - those are the tools so why aren't they being used? Not showing up or canceling last minute teaches that child that it's OK to not keep commitments. It teaches that child that their teacher's time is not important. It teaches that child that it's OK to disrespect others. Again I ask, when did this become OK?
I understand that students get distracted. I understand that students don't always have a lot of time to practice. Life is full these days. School, family, sports, clubs, pets, chores... these things all take up precious time. These things are commitments and need to be prioritized. By the same token, however, these students signed up for lessons. They made a commitment to me and to themselves to practice and learn an instrument. Not being focused and not practicing is another way student disrespect their teachers. Be prepared - be honest - tell me that you didn't practice and I'll work with that. Coming to lessons yawning, slack-jawed and not being present is a waste of everyone's time. When did this become OK?
Last but no least, the excuse "It's too hard" is bogus. No Shit it's hard! You are learning a new language (reading music)! You are using muscles you don't use at other times! You're doing 18 things at once! If it was EASY then EVERYONE would be doing it. With everything we do in our lives, there is a learning curve. Things are hard at the start, and it's my belief that they will get harder before we reach the top of the curve, and everything we've been struggling with suddenly makes sense. It all clicks, and as we move forward we start the next learning curve. "It's too hard" is not the same as a student saying "I'm no longer interested". "It's too hard" is not the same as "I never wanted to play this instrument." "It's too hard" is a cop-out for not wanting to do the work. I'm not suggesting that parents not listen to their children and force them to play an instrument they're not interested in. What I am saying is asking their kids to stick it out for 1 or 2 more lessons, to see if they can get over that hump may be more beneficial than letting them quit because "it's too hard".
How do I know all this? I've been there. I didn't want to practice. I wanted to quit. I would come to lessons unprepared and distracted. My teacher would talk to me about the disrespect I was showing her and myself, and if that's what I wanted to do then she wouldn't teach me anymore. She put her heart and soul into teaching me (and her other students) and it wasn't worth her time to waste that on someone who didn't get that.
I love my students. I teach all ages, all levels, and each one of my "kids" is special. I know music is a hobby to most of my students, and I have no problems with that. I just want them, and their parents, to see that what they're getting is gift. They're getting a teacher who is investing her time in THEM. They're getting a teacher dedicated to making this a good experience. They're getting a teacher who tries to make the lessons fun and informative. I respect my students and their parents. I'd like to be treated the same way.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Progression Lesson
I'm tired of false starts. I'm tired of living life through a bubble. I'm tired of regrets and broken promises to myself. I'm pieces of a puzzle, but the puzzle changes and I never seem to get it put together. I don't find any of this to be particularly helpful in actually living my life.
I've been thinking about joy, life, and the future. What's important, what's not important, how I want to live my life. What matters, what doesn't matter, and not caring what people think about me. These things have been rolling in my brain. Now I need to bring them, these things, to life. I need to manifest what it is that I want out of my life. I need to cut loose the anchors that are no longer needed. There is life out there, and I'd like to join the party.
What is progress? For me, I think writing is progress. I think making music and listening to music is progress. I think getting my dishes washed is progress. I think not eating veggie sticks for dinner when I'm home alone is progress. I think taking my meds, On Time, is progress. I think I've made some progress today.
I have to admit, while I don't really like change, I like progress. Progress is lovely. Progress is healing and lessons learned. I think I'm ready.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Poetry
Thought and Memory
I saw You, watched you, as You
Splashed in a puddle.
It was Autumn, but not a crisp day.
It was wet, and the sky was split between
Sunny and Grey.
I saw You and Recognized You.
I've never seen you have fun;
Play when you think no one is watching.
It was quiet.
The sun-dappled leaves were heavy with rain.
None of that mattered though.
You were playing.
Hunkered down, water up to your chest,
You began to shake.
You dipped your head down, then threw the water
Over your back.
You were nattering on, or maybe singing,
I wasn't close enough to discern.
You were in your own world,
Not mine.
It made me smile, then I wondered where
Thought and Memory were.
I was there, in the moment,
As were You.
There was no past or future,
There was only Now.
I wondered if this was a vacation for you,
A respite from the responsibility of being You.
The thought flew from my head as quickly as it had come.
No questions.
No logic.
No past.
No future.
Now. It was just Now.
Playing.
Splashing.
Enjoying the moment.
gryphon092810
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